


Together, We Can Soar

by JulietsEmoPhase



Series: Falling [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Body Image, Chubby Draco, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-War, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks after they first got together, Harry and Draco are enjoying their relationship in secret. When it is forced into the open though, Harry worries what will happen . </p><p>"Falling" Part 2/3. Hogwarts Eighth Year, non-epilogue compliant, smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together, We Can Soar

**Author's Note:**

> Last week I wrote a birthday fic for my friend Indigo (@indigoprinceofslytherin), called Fall, And I Will Catch You. It was a hurt/comfort story, with heavy emphasis on the comfort, featuring a chubby Draco desperately in need of some Harry shaped love. 
> 
> The response was overwhelming, and even if I hadn’t been tempted to write more of this particular universe already, I definitely was after all the awesome comments and people asking for a follow up. Especially after a brilliant idea from Yaz (@justanotherdrarryblog) which I just had to include :)
> 
> So here it is, the sequel, which is pretty much just fluffy, gooey feels of our boys getting a proper happy ending. This is far less angstier than the last one, but there’s still a lot of heart I promise.

 

 

Together, We Can Soar

 

 

   Harry was starting to appreciate the deep satisfaction that came from small victories. 

   It gave him a thrill to know he was making progress, to chart his success like he would a herbology assignment, watching a delicate plant thrive and grow in the sunlight.  Except his project was a great deal more satisfying than any plant. 

   He was currently very much appreciating the fact that once again, he had woken up next to Draco in his bed.  It had been over three weeks, and almost every night Draco had allowed him to bring him to his room, each time getting just the smallest amount more comfortable, the tension in his shoulders slipping away by millimetres, the tentative smiles coming with incrementally more ease by the day. 

   It was early and they were still coiled together, a happy mess of sleepy limbs as weak dawn sunshine filtered through the curtains. Harry was tracing patterns with feather light touches on Draco’s back through his t-shirt, wondering if the elation that came with being able to touch Draco at all would ever wear off. 

   His back was easy territory.  Draco liked being stroked there; firmly across his shoulders, gently down his spine.  Harry loved resting the flat of his palm against his hips, squeezing the flesh there possessively.  Draco normally protested when he did that, wriggling and batting him away, but the shy grin that would creep onto his lips made Harry think he actually quite loved it too. 

   “Hello,” a sleepy mumble came from the other pillow, and Harry trailed his hand up to caress Draco’s neck and card his fingers through his hair.  It was always soft, even in the mornings.

   “Hello,” he said with a warm smile as Draco turned to rub his eyes and look at him.  “Sleep well?”

   He nodded.  That was another of their small victories, Harry had decided.  They’d discovered since sharing a bed, neither of them had had half as many nightmares as they usually did, and when either of them were afflicted, the other was there to comfort and sooth immediately.  Harry couldn’t remember feeling this refreshed in years. 

   “What day is it?” Draco asked.

   “Thursday,” Harry told him, his fingers still lingering in his hair.  “Which means it’s three weeks, since, um…”  Sometimes he worried so much about not wanting to say the wrong thing, his bloody words got lost in his throat.  Draco smiled kindly at him though. 

   “It’s our three week anniversary,” he said, and Harry’s heart fluttered.  He so desperately wanted this arrangement that he and Draco had to be official, but he was absolutely determined to be patient.  He’d managed to stumble through enough tricky conversations thus far though, and he’d worked out the best way was generally opening the door to see if Draco was able to walk through it. 

   Calling it an anniversary felt strongly like taking a step towards something more official, more permanent, and Harry beamed happily as he pulled Draco flush against his body, so proud he’d felt able to use the term himself.  “Happy anniversary,” he whispered, rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. 

   He could feel their morning wood pressed naturally against one another where they had entwined, but he used all his will power not to grind into it.  He and Draco hadn’t done anything like that so far, and he wouldn’t do anything until Draco wanted to.  He wasn’t even sure _what_ to do, it was a bit trickier with another guy.  He and Ron had talked drunkenly about sex a few times, curious to know what the other did, but Ron with all his older brothers (and now girlfriend) had always had the upper hand. 

   He’d been able to surreptitiously glean a bit of info from Seamus last week though, when they’d gone down to Hogsmeade for an evening.  He and Dean were still in their honeymoon period, and it had been easy enough to get him to confess a few things about their sex life without arousing too much suspicion.  Harry had been so grateful he’d insisted on paying for their drinks all evening, confident he could have a go at some of the things Seamus had described, but it was a little different in person.  Especially when that person was particularly skittish when it came to their body. 

   Not that Harry was complaining.  After their first night together, he’d made a little ritual out of undressing Draco before they got into bed, and most nights Draco reciprocated the favour, an act in itself wonderfully intimate and sexual.  And once they were in boxers and t-shirts, Harry was allowed to touch almost anywhere without hesitation.  Draco had allowed him to map the curve of his arms, where firm muscle and soft flesh met elbows and wrists.  He was allowed to kiss the taboo tattoo and let his fingers glide through his hair.  He’d even been allowed to mark his clavicles with little love bites, something Harry had never thought of before, but now it made him almost crazy to see those small pink welts, a secret to everyone but them, always defining Draco as his.  When they were in lessons, if they weren’t sat together, Draco would find a chance to catch his eye at least once and touch his fingers to his collar bone, hidden by his clothes, showing Harry they both knew they were there.

   Harry loved those secret little moments between them.  For now, it made not being able to come out to the school that they were together okay, it made it manageable. 

   That and the kissing.  The kissing was pretty damn awesome too. 

   There was one area though that still always had to be negotiated for touching, and sadly it was Harry’s favourite.  Draco was still stubbornly ashamed of his stomach, and would need to be coaxed into letting Harry do anything with it.  But after some their now well-practiced kissing and murmured words of tenderness, Harry could normally achieve another of his tiny victories and slide his hands over that lovely swell. 

   Always through Draco’s t-shirt of course, they hadn’t been able to take that off yet (Harry could tell without needing to ask), however it seemed enough for now that he could touch that part of him at all.  The furthest he’d got had been when they’d been undressing a few nights ago, and Harry had sat on the bed whilst Draco stood.  He’d risked a quick kiss through the fabric, just by Draco’s belly button, but it hadn’t been entirely intentional, and he’d immediately looked up to see if Draco would retreat from him.  He’d stayed where he was though, hands still on Harry’s shoulders, and given an adorable little laugh, almost like a giggle. 

   Small victories sometimes felt enormous. 

   “Happy anniversary,” Draco whispered back, ending their Eskimo kiss with a real one on the lips.  Harry sighed.  He could honestly have wasted the entire day lying around snogging, but unfortunately that wasn’t possible.

   “Do you want to use my shower?” he asked hopefully, but Draco shook his head.

   “I’ll pop back to mine,” he said sadly, but Harry gave him a squeeze, not wanting to let him slip into melancholy. 

   “You have better shampoo than me anyway,” he said jovially.  “I like the way it makes your hair smell.”

   Draco rolled his eyes.  “Well you will insist on using anything you can find that’s buy-one-get-one-free,” he teased.  “If you spent more than a sickle on any of your products you might notice the difference.”

   “Oi!” Harry cried, diving in to tickle him mercilessly in punishment.  “I smell wonderful and you know it!”

   “Harry, _Harry!”_ Draco gasped, hooting with laughter, but Harry wasn’t giving up.  “Get off me you git!”

   He loved Draco like this, when he forgot to be sad, when he looked light and happy and flushed.  After getting another few seconds of revenge, Harry stopped and yanked Draco on top of him, letting him straddle him so they could kiss with a little more fervour.  Draco’s weight always felt so solid and comfortable above him.  He had to make sure he was in the right mood before he pulled him over him like that, but like now, when he was carefree, the possibility he would be too heavy on Harry didn’t occur to him. 

   He hoped one day soon, he’d be able to make him understand how much he loved it, how he enjoyed Draco’s solid form pressed against him, how grounded it made him feel. 

   “Urgh,” Harry said regrettably after a while, and swatted Draco’s arse.  “Go, before you make us both late.”

   Before you make me too horny, was what he really meant.

   They both slipped out of bed, goofy grins on their faces as Draco fished up his trousers and shoved his feet back through the legs.  Harry in turn fetched the Marauders Map from his bedside drawer and gave it a quick check to make sure the coast was clear.  If and when they came out as a couple, he wanted it to be on their terms, not because someone had accidently walked around the corner and seen Draco leaving Harry’s room with smitten looks on both their faces. 

   “Wear something cute for me,” he said as they stood at the door, his voice low with intent.  He honestly liked Draco in whatever he wore, but he was extremely vocal about the clothes he liked him in the most.  Anything well fitted that clung to his body got top marks in Harry’s book, and dressing in clothes the other especially liked was another way for them to feel connected even from opposite ends of the great hall.

   “Only if you’ll wear that new polo shirt for me,” Draco replied wickedly.  He’d got it for Harry as a present when he’d met Pansy to go shopping the previous weekend, and Harry really didn’t need any enticement to put it on. It was the perfect green to match his eyes, and he felt absolutely gorgeous in it. 

   It was funny.  When they’d first got together, he wouldn’t have guessed Draco could make him feel better about himself too, he thought that was something he would do solely for Draco.  But it was unbelievable what effect it could have hearing you were hot and sexy every other hour.  Draco looked at him hungrily, like he was a precious gift that he couldn’t yet believe he’d been granted. 

   “I promise,” Harry said, giving him a quick but melting kiss, then shooed him out the door.

   He wanked in the shower, he couldn’t help it.  He hoped that wasn’t against dating etiquette, but he wasn’t sure he could cope with his body in its current state any other way.  Waiting for Draco to be ready to take the next step was an enormous part of the joy he was feeling in their new, blossoming relationship, but he was only human, and after a morning like that he needed some sort of relief, or he was in danger of exploding. 

   He thought of no one but Draco any more when he touched himself, so he figured that was fair.  It wasn’t even anything too drastic, he just closed his eyes and pictured Draco under the water with him, his hand slipping up and down his shaft until he spilled hot and thick over his fingers. 

   He hummed and grinned to himself as he got dressed in the new polo shirt as promised, already looking forward to being reunited with his other half at breakfast.

   Not that they could sit together of course, despite the Eighth Years having their own table – fitting in with their lack of uniform or official house status.  It ran parallel to the teacher’s table, horizontal to the other benches, comfortably fitting the forty or so students that had returned.  But Draco hadn’t felt up to sitting next to one another yet, preferring to eat alone like he had the rest of the year.  Harry longed to throw caution to the wind and just sit beside him like there was nothing out of the ordinary, but like everything that had occurred between them so far, he would leave it to Draco to decide when the time was right.  It didn’t mean he liked seeing Draco all alone though. 

   The day passed like a typical Thursday, with lessons after breakfast and then lunch sat apart again.  But Harry did catch Draco’s eye once over his sandwich and pumpkin juice, and the small smile he’d given him had propelled him into the afternoon.  He was wearing a black shirt and silvery-grey trousers that hugged him in all the right places, and Harry had to placate himself thinking how lovely they would be to slowly take off later. 

   They had to get through the rest of lessons first though, but thankfully they only had double Potions, a class they not only shared, but had been fortunate enough to partner up on an assignment for since last week.  As he and Draco had worked together once before at the start of the year, Harry felt like it hadn’t caused any raised eyebrows to do so again. 

   Slughorn had seemed reluctant to let Harry pair with Draco when they had first worked together several months ago.  He’d bristled when Harry had wordlessly moved his books over to sit beside the lonely looking boy, but with no other Slytherins left in his year, Harry had quickly sussed that Draco was going to be the odd one out if he didn’t do something, and that hadn’t sat well with him.  Slughorn had probably thought Draco beneath Harry, despite his obvious skill in the subject, but Harry had been glad at the time with his decision, and even more so now.  If he hadn’t taken that chance then, would Draco have let him comfort him three weeks ago, would they now be together without planting that small seed of trust? 

   During that first lesson together, when Harry had approached the space next to Draco with no small amount of trepidation, Draco had looked over at Harry with wide, sceptical eyes, almost fearful of what he would do.  But Harry had just smiled at him and began chopping the closest thing for their brew, not saying anything, hoping his gesture would be rightly interpreted.  That had caused Draco to huff though, to take the damn knife unceremoniously off him and start the task again correctly, making Harry smirk.  He’d appreciated Draco still having that bit of spark about him then as much as he did now. 

   Now they worked exceptionally well together in their new official partnership.  Draco was a good teacher, patient with Harry despite affecting eye rolls and huffs when Harry was being a bit dense, but unlike at the start of the year, this past week they had been delivered with subtle hints of affection.  Potions had become a safe space that they could let their fingers brush, or their shoulders bump, without it being too obvious. 

   Or so Harry thought.  The look Hermione had given him when they were clearing their belongings away had made him wonder, especially when she hurried Ron out as quickly as possible, stating loudly that she needed help with something in the library, much to Ron’s dismay.  Draco and Harry had been the last students in the classroom, with even Slughorn gone back to his office, leaving them alone to carefully tidy the rest of their ingredients away. 

   “That seemed convenient,” Draco noted, observant as always. 

   Harry just chuckled and risked a quick peck on the cheek.  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he said.

   “You Muggles have the weirdest sayings,” Draco chided without rancour. 

   They walked out together, slowly making their way up to the kitchen entrance to hopefully spend an hour or so in relative private.  Dinella and the other elves had been ecstatic that Draco was not only still coming to visit them, but that he now brought Harry along too and was generally much happier for it.  Harry was already planning on what cakes to request of their little friends, who tripped over themselves to please the boys in the most adorable and affectionate way.  Harry had worked out cream confectionary was the best, as Draco could easily be coerced into licking said cream of Harry’s fingertips, another small victory of intimacy. 

   Yes, the afternoon was shaping up to give them as pleasant an anniversary as they could manage, and Harry thought maybe he could make it even more special that evening if given the chance, pondering if he could maybe get away with smuggling some of that cream back to his room after hours. 

   He snapped back to reality though, tuning into what Draco was telling him.  He was talking about a trip he was planning on taking once they had graduated, to Peru to hand pick some exotic potion ingredients for numerous concoctions he hoped to work on in preparation for applying for jobs in the autumn.  He had his heart set on professional potion making, Harry now knew, and this was the second time this week he’d ‘casually’ brought up his travelling aspirations.  Harry really, really hoped that was because he was working up the courage to invite him along too.  The idea of going away together, of being able to openly be a couple all day, was almost too good to be true. 

   Maybe it was this thought that gave him away somehow.  Perhaps he was grinning too broadly, or listening too intently as they wandered down the bustling corridor, but suddenly he felt daggers being thrown metaphorically his way, and he turned his head instinctively to search out their origin. 

   He was almost not surprised to find the two Ravenclaw Fourth Year girls he’d lambasted in the library for making fun of Draco.  He had no idea of their names still, but Number One was looking at him with barely concealed incredulity from several feet away, with Number Two attempting to distract her and bring her back into the conversation she was having with a couple of other girls. 

   Harry locked eyes with her, glared, then turned away.  But Draco had already noticed and stopped walking, looking between them both.  “Oh,” he said softly, clutching protectively at the strap of his bag.  “Is that them?”

   Harry had naturally stopped too at Draco’s hesitation, and now moved to face him, removing the most hostile girl from his line of sight.  “Who?” he lied miserably. 

   Draco gave him a sad twitch of a smile.  “The girls who said, you know,” he mumbled, a tinge of pinkness creeping into his cheeks.  “Who called me pudgy.”

   Harry had a moment of panic.  He wanted to deny it was them, that it had even happened.  He wanted to spin Draco around and keep him well away from any further damage they might do, but deep down, he realised that probably wouldn’t work. 

   Instead, he took hold of Draco’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, not caring he was breaking their no contact rule.  “Ignore them,” he rasped in low tones, pouring all his conviction into the words.  “What they think doesn’t matter, only what you think does.”

   Draco tried to laugh, but it was a little watery.  “Well,” he said ruefully.  “I think they’re right.”  Harry was horrified for a second that he might actually start crying.  He’d be damned if he gave those silly girls that satisfaction. 

   “And I think that’s bollocks,” Harry growled, trying not to raise his voice so anyone else could hear him over the hubbub of all the students changing lessons.  “I think you’re gorgeous, but if you need a bit more convincing I’ll be happy to give you another demonstration right now if you come back to my room with me.” 

   He wanted to lighten the mood, and he managed to get a small smile out of Draco, so he figured he was on the right track.  And besides, the hot, protective urges that were shooting through his body at that moment were making him want to get Draco back to bed immediately anyway.  Even the suggestion from someone that he wasn’t good enough, that his body wasn’t perfect, had Harry fit for a fight.  But the softness he saw in Draco’s eyes made him hope that wouldn’t be necessary, that he wouldn’t have to shout at anyone again. 

   Unfortunately, girl Number One seemed to have gotten a bee in her bonnet, and wasn’t going to make things that easy for them. 

   “Excuse me Harry?” her sweet voice came from his elbow, and he turned to realise she had crossed the few feet of space between them.  Girl Number Two was hovering anxiously at her side, but if she’d attempted to stop her coming over she had obviously failed.

   “Yes?” Harry replied coldly, letting go of Draco’s shoulders to face her fully.  They were both several inches taller than her, however the girl, to her credit, didn’t seem to let that faze her. 

   She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “I was wondering if we could have a quick word,” she said, flicking back her wavy brown hair, and indicating the nearest classroom, which looked at a glance to be unoccupied.  “In private.”

   Harry huffed.  “I’m sorry,” he said, at least attempting to maintain an air of civility.  “But we’re already late.”

   The girl shot a fast but still noticeable glower at Draco.  “Actually, it was just you I needed a word with,” she said breathily, like this was nothing and they talked all the time.  “I’m sure whichever professor you have next will understand, you are Harry Potter after all.”

   If she had been purposefully looking for a button to press, she probably couldn’t have picked a worse one than that.  Harry felt a cold anger flare through him that he was certain showed plan as day on his face.  “I don’t expect or need any kind of special treatment, so no, I will not be late to where I’m going, thank you very much.”

   He made to move, but the girl apparently decided to throw caution to the wind and stepped in his way.  “But you _are_ special,” she insisted, and Harry guessed she was going to say whatever it was that she had wanted to out there, in the open.  He prepared himself for another argument.  “You can’t avoid that, you’re The Chosen One and people _pay attention_ to you.”  She swept her eyes up and down Draco in a most unflattering manner.  “You have to be _careful_ what you do, otherwise people might start getting the wrong impression.”

   “And what impression would that be?” Harry asked, amazed at the control he’d managed to hold onto with his voice.  He was aware that they were earning themselves a crowd, and Draco was all but trembling next to him.  He so desperately wanted to put his arm around him, but instead he just inched closer to him, trying to send him support without actually saying anything. 

   “That you’re hanging around with Death Eaters!” blurted Girl Two, throwing her lot in with her friend.  “My mum works at the Prophet, and she said someone had sent them a tip you guys were friends or something!”

   Both the girls seemed to be under the impression this would shock Harry, but he didn’t even flinch.  So Girl One carried on.  “Look, I’m worried this is our fault, after what we said the other week.”  She glanced at her friend, who nodded in encouragement.  “We…might have been…out of line,” she said, but it seemed like it was costing her to get the words out.  “And we’re sorry about that.”

   “We are,” Girl Two said eagerly.

   “But that doesn’t mean you have to make up for our mistake,” Girl One urged him.  “The papers will be looking at you now Harry,” she hissed solemnly.  “You can’t give them any excuse, you know how they like to twist stories – no offense,” she added to her mate, as if she was the one being insulted.

   “None taken,” Girl Two said weightily.  “It’s true, Harry all they need is a picture of you guys together, and they’ll make it seem like you’re being corrupted!”

   Harry had barely heard the last few words from them both as he’d been counting to ten whilst taking steady breaths.  He was absolutely determined not to do something stupid.  “You may be too young to appreciate this,” he said in clipped tones.  “But the Prophet always finds a way to write whatever it wants.  Who I chose to be friends with is none of their – or quite frankly your – business.”

   Girl Number Two swallowed as a flicker of shame crossed over her face, but Number One just seemed to bolster.   “We’re only looking out for you,” she said earnestly.  “Your other friends might not know how bad this could get, or maybe they’re too _scared_ to tell you the truth.”

   “The truth?” Harry bit out.

   She jutted her chin up and looked him in the eye.  “Draco Malfoy is bad for your image.  You have loads of friends, why don’t you spend time with them?”  She all but sneered at Draco still by Harry’s side.  “He doesn’t deserve you.”

   “I am a grown man who does not need a silly little girl telling me who I can and cannot be friends with,” Harry shot at her, finally losing his temper.  He then grabbed Draco’s arm and shoved by the Ravenclaws, ignoring the onlookers and their open mouths.  “I suggest you get over your own arrogance next time and refrain from _ever_ speaking to me again.”

   “You don’t need to drag yourself down because you feel like you’re doing him a favour!” the girl fired belligerently to their backs.  “Just because he needs a thicker skin doesn’t mean you have to burden yourself with this… _charity!”_

   “Charity?” Harry spluttered, unable to stop himself as he spun back around.

   “Harry, please,” Draco whispered hurriedly in his ear.  “You said so yourself, they’re not worth it.  You don’t have to defend me.”

   “Yes I bloody do,” he snapped, fuming with rage.  He was mad enough, but Draco’s face as he insisted he wasn’t worth fighting for was the last straw.  No one made his man look that sad, certainly not some stupid, meddling Fourth Years.  “My friendship with Draco is not _charity,”_ he spat.  “So the Prophet can like it or lump it.”

   The girls both blinked, and the second one turned her head in contemplation.  “You’re not,” she began, as if searching for the words.  “Actually _friends_ though, are you?”

   Harry laughed, feeling like something inside him had snapped.  “No, you’re right, we’re not _friends,”_ he told them as a kind of madness took hold of him.  The girls had a split-second to look triumphant, before Harry’s hand slid down from where he was gripping Draco’s bicep, then seized his hand defiantly.  “We’re _boyfriends.”_

   Everyone in the entire corridor seemed to freeze, and reality stuck Harry as he released what he’d done.  He didn’t care about the Ravenclaws as their hands shot over their mouths; his attention snapped wholly and completely to Draco’s face, horrified at himself for being so selfish, wishing desperately he could take it back… 

   But Draco was staring at him with a sort of wonder, and for a moment it was like they were standing there alone, instead of surrounded by a hundred or so students.  He didn’t say anything, though after another heartbeat or two, Harry felt his hand being given a quick but firm squeeze of encouragement. 

   “What!” spluttered Girl One. 

   “Boyfriends,” Draco said clearly, his voice a little shaky but Harry still had hold of his hand for support, and a glimmer of his old swagger was suddenly shining through.  “Partners, lovers, whatever else you want to call two people snogging each other exclusively.”  

   There were a few gasps and squeaks, but Harry hardly heard them over the rush of pride that practically soared through his body.  This was not how he had planned on revealing their relationship to the world at large in the slightest, but it was happening regardless, and the relief and excitement was making him light-headed.  “So you see,” he said haughtily, pulling Draco even closer to him.  “I don’t care what the Prophet writes, but if they want a quote, you can tell them that we’re extremely happy together, thank you very much.” 

   Girl Number Two looked like she might balk at having to relay that particular message to her mother, but from somewhere in the crowd came a whoop.  “Yes Harry mate,” Seamus cried from over the heads of some younger students.  “Good on you!”

   “Yeah!” a little Slytherin girl.  “You tell them Malfoy!”

   And quite suddenly, the throng of students were yelling out other words of encouragement, and some people started clapping, and then the two of them were surrounded by well-wishers and people patting their backs, the Ravenclaws nowhere to be seen.

   Draco looked as stunned as Harry felt.  He was sure not everyone was pleased, he’d seen several scowls and numerous backs turn as people moved away in disgust, but quite frankly, it was hard to pay attention to them when so many happy faces were smiling and chatting happy words that all merged into one blur of good will.  The practical side of Harry’s brain reminded him that this was probably only the beginning of their troubles, that they would probably have to deal with a great deal of animosity in the days, weeks, maybe even months to come, but he pushed that to one side.  He and Draco should be allowed to enjoyed their moment, even if that’s all it was.

   “Thanks, thank you,” Harry stammered as he started to push gently through the crowd.  “We really should get going though, thank you, honestly, it’s nothing, thank you-”

   Eventually they were able to break free, and with the help of Seamus kindly ushering some of the more enthusiastic kids back, they made their escape, running by mutual silent consent in the direction of the Eighth Year dorms.  “Oh Merlin,” Harry panted, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed as they rounded an empty corridor, and he yanked Draco to a halt.  “Holy shit, Draco, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean – are you okay?  I shouldn’t have, I didn’t-”

   Draco stopped him by grabbing his face and planting a kiss squarely on his lips.  Harry was so stunned, he just let it happen.  “That was one of the most incredible things anyone had ever done for me,” he said, his eyes shining.  “I mean,” he scoffed.  “One of the stupidest too, but mostly, incredible.”  He grinned so wide Harry just had to kiss it right off his face.

   “You’re not mad?” he fretted.  “Everyone in the whole bloody country will probably know by next week, it might get unpleasant?”

   Draco’s face became more serious, but Harry was happy to see there was still a small smile lurking on his features.  “Yeah,” he admitted, running his hand across the back of Harry’s neck.  “I’m sure it will.  But you’ll be there to look after me, we’ll look after each other?”

   “Of course,” said Harry, kissing him tenderly again.

   “I just feel,” Draco laughed with incredulity.  “Actually, I never knew I could feel like this,” he said, his voice catching on the last word.  “I probably don’t deserve to feel like this,” he added, but carried on before Harry could interrupt.  “No,” he said firmly.  “I did some bad things, I made some bad choices, and being with you doesn’t erase that.  But…”  He bit his lip and took a shaky breath.  “I like being with you a lot, and I’m really trying so hard to believe you like being with me too.”

   “I do,” Harry said firmly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.  “I do, I really do.”

   Draco nodded.  “So that’s that,” he said.  “People know now, it’s real, and maybe I’ll be able to believe it’s real now it’s out in the open.”

   Harry wrapped his arms around him in a crushing hug.  “It’s real, I promise you,” he urged him.  “I should have asked though before blurting it out like that, it wasn’t fair to put that on you, I know this is scary.”  And it was.  They weren’t just coming out of the closet, they were opening themselves for a lot of criticism.  The Boy-Who-Lived with a former Death Eater?  That had scandal written all over it, but Harry didn’t honestly care, he was used to it.  All he cared about was how Draco felt, and that his friends understood.  He hoped they would anyway; Seamus had been evidently on their side, but he hadn’t seen Ron or Hermione yet.

   “Those girls just made me so mad,” he continued.  “I saw red.  But I’d wanted us to come out when we were ready?”

   Draco bit his lip.  “They were very persistent,” he admitted, and the shadow of doubt Harry had been expecting flickered almost imperceptibly over his features.  They would only have to face more people saying things along the same lines, probably a lot worse, but Draco was right.  Harry was there to protect Draco, that was his job now, and good Godric he would do so ferociously. 

   “All those other people were so happy for us though,” he said softly, rubbing Draco’s back.  “Once people get over the shock, we’ll be okay, we will, I promise.”  He hoped he was right.  They’d only been together a few weeks, and this was going to put a lot of extra pressure on them.  He held Draco even tighter to him, and begged to whatever silent force might be listening that they would weather the storm. 

   He didn’t know he could feel this complete until Draco had let him into his life.  Yes, he found him attractive physically, but it was so much more than that.  He was strong and clever and actually pretty funny, once he let his guard down.  Harry liked the inside as much as the out, and he figured that was easier to defend and fight for than if he just thought he was pretty.  He liked Draco mind, body and soul.  Perhaps, he dared think, he more than ‘liked’. 

   “How do you feel?” Harry asked.  He’d found it was good sometimes to just ask Draco what he was thinking, to give him permission to own his feelings.  He watched as he chewed his lip, lost in thought. 

   “If those girls hadn’t pushed us,” Draco admitted tentatively.  “I might not…it might have taken me a very long time to believe I was ready to be honest about this.  Us.”  He smiled shyly.  “Maybe it was good they forced me to be brave, like you.”

   “You are brave,” Harry insisted, and Draco shrugged.  “It’s a quiet sort of brave,” Harry said, feeling the passion behind the words burn in his chest.  “You don’t quit, you stick at it, with dignity.”

   Draco rested their foreheads together.  “It helps to have someone who’s the noisy sort of brave on your side,” he told him fondly. 

   Harry laughed.  “Come on,” he said, tugging on his hand.  “Let’s get out of here, I don’t fancy dealing with anyone else today.”

   They hurried through the last few turns towards the Eighth Year dormitories, not bumping into anyone along the way, but naturally their luck ran out once they got inside.  The entrance lead directly into the common room, a wide and spacious circular room with book cases running along one half and floor to ceiling windows across the other.  Matching mahogany tables of varying sizes populated the carpeted floor, accompanied by chairs and sofas finished in a soft, cream fabric that made the room feel light and airy.  Throw cushions representing all the house colours were littered about, as were half a dozen or so students passing away their Thursday afternoon.  Two of which were Hermione and Ron, and Harry skidded to a halt at the sight of them, Draco’s hand still firmly clasped in his own.   

   Ron was ensconced in a chess match with Dean Thomas, but Hermione was lounging on a couch next to them, a heavy book on her lap.  She glanced up to see them both frozen in front of her, and Harry suddenly had absolutely no idea what to say.  What if they didn’t approve, what if they never came around to the idea of him being with Draco?  He didn’t think he could stand that. 

   But Hermione just smiled, a mischievous look in her eyes.  “Finally,” was all she said, then cast her gaze back down to her tome. 

   Harry’s face split into a crazy grin of relief, and he turned to see Draco wearing a matching expression.  “Thanks,” he breathed, then bolted towards the doorway to the bedrooms. 

   The movement must of caught Ron’s eye, because they were followed out by his startled cry of “Harry?  What’s going – are you _holding Malfoy’s hand!_   Harry!  _Harry!”_

   Harry just laughed though, loud and free as they charged towards his room and slammed through the door with barely a moment’s pause.  He locked it behind them with several different wards, not intending to be disturbed at all, and threw up a hefty silencer charm as well.  “That’s more like it-” he began, but was cut off with a _woomph!_ as Draco crashed into him, hands gabbing the back of his head as he locked their lips together in a fierce kiss, their school bags thwacking on the floor.

   “You’re so brilliant,” he gasped between snogs.  “I wanted to be friends for so long – It killed me being enemies – This was so worth it – You’re _brilliant.”_

   Harry couldn’t get his hands over enough of him, grappling with his clothes as he pawed up and down his arms, over his back, even groping at his backside.  _“Draco,”_ he moaned.  He wanted to try and explain how happy he made him, how perfect he thought he was, but it just came out as _“So happy, so perfect.”_   Close enough, he figured. 

   He hardly even registered what was happening as Draco’s hands slipped under his polo shirt, and hauled it up and over his head.  And then, for the first time ever, he was standing there in front of his boyfriend, naked from the waist up. 

   “Oh,” was all he managed before Draco slammed them back together, and his skin felt amazing rubbing up against Draco’s soft cotton shirt.  They stumbled towards the bed, Harry walking backwards until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress.  He began unbuttoning Draco’s shirt with trembling fingers, then remembered the promise he’d made to himself during lunch that he would enjoy doing this _slowly._   So he pulled back from their kiss and started working down the shirt and a steadier pace.

   “I was imagining getting you out if this earlier,” he said as he kissed along Draco’s jaw, still soft from only being shaved hours before.  “That was before you were technically my _boyfriend_ though _._ ”He grinned into Draco’s neck, his skin tingling at how wonderful the word sounded on his tongue.

   Draco hummed and ran his fingers all over his bare arms and chest and back.  “Think I’ve been technically your ‘whatever-you-want’ for three weeks now,” he said purposefully.

   Harry got down to the last button, slipping the shirt over his shoulders and leaving him in one of his standard white t-shirts.  “You’re mine?” he clarified with a hopeful, cheeky grin as he tugged at the belt holding his trousers up.

   “All yours,” Draco panted, his fingers deftly working at the zip on Harry’s jeans.  His voice wobbled though as the paused with his hands about to pull down on the waistband.  “And…and your mine?” he stammered.

   Harry dropped the belt to the floor where he’d released it and immediately cupped his hands either side of Draco’s face, looking him straight in the eye.  “I am _completely_ yours,” he said emphatically.  He felt a wave of emotion surge over him, overwhelming him slightly as he took in those large, grey eyes.  “I’m sorry we wasted so much time, I’m sorry we both suffered so much.  But that’s over now, it’s over and we have each other and we’re going to be _okay.”_

   Draco closed his eyes, and Harry wasn’t shocked to see a single tear escape from one of them, but he took a slow breath and brushed it away with his thumb.  “I…” said Draco hesitantly.  “I think…I love you.”

   Harry’s felt like his heart perhaps stopped.  Love, _love?_   Was this what love felt like, this desperation, this clawing need to be as close to someone as possible, the ache when they were away, the _torment_ when they were suffering?  Draco’s joy multiplied his own infinitely, he lived to see his smile, to see his burdens released.  Was that enough, was that what love was?

   “I think maybe…” Draco carried on, his eyes still closed.  “I’ve loved you for a while, but I didn’t know, not really, until you wanted me too.”

   He looked scared, shaking under Harry’s grasp, lip trembling, eyes screwed shut.  So Harry began slowly kissing every inch of his face; his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and his mouth.  “I think I’ve loved you for some time too,” he said, his voice thick and rasping.  “I think…I think I’m in love with you?”

   A keening noise caught at the back of Draco’s throat, and Harry was seizing him in a kiss filled with possessive fire, and such tenderness he felt like it might break him.  “It’s okay,” he said, remembering his words from the kitchen those weeks before.  “I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’m here.”

   He kicked his shoes off, easy since the trainers were only loosely tied, then tried to calm himself as he took a few deep breaths.  “Shh,” he soothed, stroking Draco’s hair and nuzzling his temple into his neck.  “It’s okay baby, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

   He felt Draco relaxing into his touch, felt him taking his own slow breaths.  “I’m alright,” he managed after a minute or two.  “I know you’ve got me.”

   Harry smiled.  He never would have managed to get words like that out even a week ago, he wouldn’t have trusted Harry enough.  “Can I carry on undressing you?” he asked, ghosting his fingers down his flanks, skimming them over his hips and his thighs.

   Draco nodded, reaching up to gently place his left hand over Harry’s heart.  Harry paused, removing his own hand from the trouser buttons, and brought Draco’s wrist up from his chest to press his lips against it, allowing him to carefully trail open mouth kisses down the Dark Mark.  It was his way of showing Draco that he knew who he was, that he hadn’t forgotten, but he had forgiven and accepted him for the person he was.  The fact that Draco leaned into him, that he gave silent permission for this little act of worship told Harry that he understood his meaning. 

   After a time he placed the hand back on his chest, then went back to undoing Draco’s trousers.  Once free, he carefully slid them down his legs, and made short work of the neat bows tided into his polished leather shoes, removing them, the socks and the trousers to leave Draco once more in just t-shirt and boxers.

   Harry didn’t want any more pressure put on Draco than necessary, so without saying anything he hurriedly yanked down his own jeans and kicked them free, then dropped his glasses onto the bedside cabinet.  Now all that was left was his underwear, and it did little to hide his hard and eager erection.

   But they had time, they had all the time in the world.  So he just cuddled into Draco letting his hands roam, mapping out the body he now proudly felt custodian of.  Draco’s hands were eagerly tracing up and down his spine, and his breaths were ragged and needy.  “Lie down with me?” Harry whispered.

   “Please,” came the almost inaudible reply. 

   He slipped his fingers in between Draco’s and sat on the bed.  He shuffled backwards, letting him follow as they both settled side by side on the pillows, the mattress cradling their bodies as they came naturally together to entwine once more.  Draco’s skin was always cooler than Harry’s, and he felt like he was burning up.  “You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured between kisses, and was pleased to feel the smile under his own lips.  “So perfect, my baby.”

   “I love you,” Draco said in hushed tones, getting bolder by the minute, and Harry could have cried at hearing those words again. 

   “I love you too,” he whispered.

   He rolled Draco to lie on his back, and he hovered looking down at him with reverence.  “Is it okay,” he rasped, biting his lip.  “If I touch you here?”  He let his fingers glide over his stomach, from right to left, so lightly he wasn’t even really making contact with the fabric of the t-shirt.

   “You really do like it, don’t you?” Draco asked, almost in awe, and when Harry looked back up he found grey eyes waiting to meet his own. 

   He hesitated.  He didn’t want to make Draco feel objectified, or like this was a weird fetish or something, he was sure it wasn’t anything like that.  “I just think it’s lovely,” he said honestly.  “It feels so nice, it looks so good on you.  I like the way your body curves, I like how strong it feels against mine.”

   Draco swallowed visibly and another tear rolled down the side of his face, but he was smiling fondly, so Harry mirrored the same expression back.  “How do you make me feel so good like that?” he asked, and Harry’s heart swelled in his chest. 

   “I don’t know,” he said with a little laugh, and felt a lump in his own throat.  “It’s just how I feel, I like telling you how hot you are.  You have such an effect on me.”

   “I can see,” Draco replied with an equally nervous laugh, moving his thigh so he nudged against Harry’s hard on.  Harry felt himself flush in embarrassment, but Draco was hard too, so he nudged him back.  It was the first time they’d even acknowledged they were aroused, and heat crept up his neck in anxious anticipation. 

   “Not so subtle yourself,” he teased, and Draco kissed him hungrily. 

   “You’re ridiculously hot Harry,” he admonished.  “I’d have to be half dead not to react to you rolling around naked on top of me.”

   The word naked shot straight down Harry’s spine and he groaned.  He shifted his weight so, like this morning, their cocks fit snugly together, and gave a tentative grind of his hips.

   The noise Draco made was utterly sinful, and Harry became pretty certain it wasn’t going to take long for him to come at all.  _“Fuck,”_ he hissed, his vision almost whiting out in pleasure. 

   “Hang on,” Draco said, a hint of urgency to his voice, and Harry immediately pulled back to look at him and see what was wrong.

   “Sorry,” he stuttered, but Draco shook his head.

   “No,” he breathed, his voice wavering but his expression stern.  “That’s what I want, I want more, I want _you._   I just…I thought…”

   He inhaled, his eyes locked on Harry’s, then he reached up over his head, grabbed the neck of his shirt, and hoisted it over his head.

   For the second time that evening, Harry was pretty certain his heart stopped.

   Draco was tense as he dropped the t-shirt onto the floor with their other clothes, his hair in a soft, static-fluffed halo around his head, and Harry knew he needed to say something immediately.  “Wow,” was all his foggy brain could manage. 

   “Is it okay?” Draco mumbled self-consciously, looking down at his belly.

   He didn’t really have the words still, so Harry just gently ran his hand down the edge of his stomach, a soft almost invisible layer of golden hair tickling his fingertips.  “It’s beautiful, _you’re_ beautiful.  Are you okay, we don’t have to do this?” he added hastily.

   “I want to,” said Draco determinedly, but his voice was tight.

   Harry kissed him worriedly.  “Tell me how to help,” he said.  Draco didn’t seem to hesitate at that, he just pulled Harry down on top of him, their sensitised skin pressing together in a crushing hug.

   “Just come here,” Draco begged, and that, Harry could do. 

   He wasn’t sure how long he undulated slowly and carefully against his lover’s almost entirely naked body, stripped down so he was bare and raw and _so_ trusting.  Harry wanted to do everything in his power to prove he’d earned that trust.  “You feel amazing,” he gasped.

   “So do you,” came Draco’s reply, and Harry’s grin was so stupidly wide he made it difficult to keep kissing.

   Instead, he rolled off so he was on his side again, still flush against Draco on his back, and he caressed his hand up and down the length of Draco’s torso, feeling the plump fullness of his tummy, the way it dimpled a little as it met his hips.

   He had not failed to notice the scar almost immediately, but it was only now, after Draco had gotten used to him touching his vulnerable flesh, did he obviously trace his fingers along the faint pink ridge that bisected him from his left shoulder to his right hip.  “I did this,” he said simply, but inside his emotions were beginning to tumble almost uncontrollably over one another.  The foremost of which was guilt.  Would Draco hate his body so much if Harry hadn’t blemished it so cruelly?

   “It was an accident,” Draco told him without pause, placing his hand over Harry’s.  “You didn’t know what the spell did, Snape told me.”

   Harry gave him a searching look.  “So you were never once angry at me for leaving you with this?” he asked bluntly.  “You never cursed my name for changing the way you looked, forever?”  Draco clenched his jaw, but Harry lifted his hand and kissed his fingers before he could agree.  “You should have, I’m glad you did.  I was careless, and I could have _killed_ you.”

   Draco shook his head.  “You didn’t though,” he said firmly.  He looked down, and placed both their hands over the point where the scar crossed his sternum.  “I hated it for such a long time.”

   “I’m so sorry,” Harry croaked, his voice catching on the last word.

   “No,” said Draco firmly, ignoring the twin tears that slid down his temples.  He reached up with his other hand and cupped Harry’s face.  “No, I did hate it, because, all I saw when I looked at it was how we were enemies, and that’s all I thought we could be.  But now-”  He managed a quirk of a smile, and that was enough to make Harry laugh in nervous relief.  “Now, it’s another part of our history.”

   “A pretty shit one,” Harry griped.

   Draco hummed.  “Yeah,” he conceded.  “But…Okay, you know that was a pretty awful time for me, I was so scared, but I knew what I was doing was wrong and I refused to ask for help.  Finally, there was a consequence for my actions, I knew what it was like to get hurt, to almost die.”

   Harry winced, feeling nauseous, but Draco stoked his face lovingly. 

   “It woke me up,” he said ardently.  “I couldn’t go through with killing Dumbledore, and I started pulling away from everything my father had taught me.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me alive over the next year.  And when they dumped you at my feet, wanting to know if it was you…”

   “You lied,” Harry said, realising there were tears slowly making their way to his jaw. 

   “It wasn’t much,” Draco said quietly.

   Harry kissed him.  And then he kissed him again.  And again.  “It was enough,” he insisted.  “We both survived, we’re both here.”

   “We’ll be okay,” Draco managed.

   “Together,” Harry said forcefully.  “Together we’ll be okay.”

   He rolled again, pulling Draco on top of him as their kisses became fervoured.  Their bodies rolled and ground together, and Harry started to feel something build in him he’d never felt from someone else before.  His hands dropped to Draco’s hips, gripping on to the swell of his arse as he pulled at his last remaining bit of clothing.  Draco’s hands were suddenly on him, and then they were both scrambling, yanking at the boxers, removing any final barriers between them.

   Harry cried out wildly as their exposed groins melded into a perfect fusion of movement, and he wrapped his legs over Draco’s, thrusting against him desperately.  One hand was locked in his beautifully soft hair, the other was clinging to his back, digging into the flesh, giving him purchase.  Draco’s arms enfolded him completely, hugging him as closely to him as possible as his cries became animalistic and his movements frantic. 

   “Don’t stop,” Harry begged.  “Don’t stop, _don’t stop-”_

   Draco didn’t stop, if anything he worked even harder, and Harry’s world suddenly shattered, his body feeling like it was flying into a million pieces as he stuttered and shook, dimly noting the wail of Draco’s climax in his ear.

   He felt warm all over as his senses slowly came back to him.  Warm, and sticky. 

   He couldn’t help it, he chuckled.

   “Urgh,” he groaned happily, reaching for his wand, sticking out of his jeans pocket on the floor.  He cleaned them up with a flick, then dropped it again before rolling to snuggle his bare and sated form flush against Draco’s once more.  “Are you okay?” he whispered, unable to stop the hint of nerves he felt creeping in. 

   Draco though, began to laugh.  It stared small, but soon it became something much larger and livelier.  “Are you crazy?” he asked, snapping his head to face Harry, happiness abundant in his features.  “That was amazing, you’re amazing, oh Salazar, I don’t ever want to leave this bed!”

   Harry bit his lip and touched his fingers gently to Draco’s cheek.  “I’m sure that could be arranged,” he said, not entirely sure he was joking.

 

***

 

   That next morning, Draco stayed and used Harry’s bathroom.  He conjured his own toothbrush, but deigned to use Harry’s cheap shampoo, and even allowed Harry to augment a shirt and some underwear so he would have something new and clean to wear for the day ahead. 

   He automatically reached for the Marauder’s Map to scan the corridor for anyone else before they stepped out, but at the last moment snatched his hand back from his bedside drawer.  He didn’t care who saw them, they were free now.  People could gossip to their heart’s content.  The realisation made him feel like he floated into the Eighth Year common room.

   He and Draco held hands the whole way – they may had been stupidly happy, and perhaps a little drunk on confidence, but when it came to the crunch, Harry needed to feel Draco solid and real against him, just as he knew Draco would from him.  “Ready?” he asked, pausing before they stepped over the threshold. 

   Draco nodded.  “Yes,” he said, his face pinched with anxiety and determination.  “Let’s go.”

   Harry was used to being stared at after all his years of fame, but this was different, knowing that he and Draco were under equal scrutiny, and that Draco would undoubtedly be the subject of far unkinder treatment than himself.  He would just have to make them see how happy they were, how much he needed Draco in his life, and then hopefully people might start to leave them be.

   He couldn’t really blame the shocked faces that greeted them as they strode amongst their peers.  Eyes widened and brows raised as Harry headed towards the doorway, not hurrying exactly, but not dawdling either.  “Morning,” he said to Neville, who’s jaw had dropped comically.

   “Morning,” Parvati and her twin sister Padma chorused in lieu of his reply, and Harry could practically see the gossip churning behind their eyes.  That was fine though, he’d rather have everyone know sooner rather than later, that way they could get over it all that much quicker. 

   Seamus was sitting with Dean on a couch not far from the door, and Ron and Hermione were opposite them.  As Harry and Draco approached, Dean nodded to them, and all four got to their feet.

   For a second, fear irrationally flooded Harry’s system, thinking they were going to confront them, but instead they just picked up their school bags and moved away from the sofas.  “Going to breakfast?” Hermione asked casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and Harry beamed at her in relief. 

   “Um, yeah,” he said.

   “Marvellous,” Dean announced, clapping Draco on the back.  “We’ll join you.”

   Draco’s face was blank, or so it would seem.  Harry could read the flurry of emotions playing out behind his eyes as he tried to make sense of what he surely considered to be this bizarre Gryffindor behaviour.  The six of them made their way out into the corridor, leaving the slowly building murmur of chatter behind them as the door closed.

   “Um,” said Draco, pulling Harry to a stop once they were clear.  The other four turned to look at him.  “You, you don’t have to do this for me.  I mean,” he stumbled on.  “I appreciate you doing it for Harry, but you don’t owe me anything, I don’t want, um...”  he faltered and looked to Harry for help.

   Surprisingly, it was Ron that came to the rescue.

   “Look Malfoy,” he said, stepping away from Hermione’s side.  His face was unexpectedly relaxed, and Harry braced himself for what was to come.  But Ron went a step further and managed a little smile.  “We’ve not been friends, and I can’t promise we ever will be, but we can see you’ve changed, that you’ve been trying.  And, well, Harry mate you seemed like you were on cloud nine these past few weeks.  Hermione reckons it’s because you’re, well, you know?”  He gestured between Harry and Draco, where their hands were still firmly grasped together.

   “Yeah,” said Harry warmly, looking at Draco’s worried face, hoping to calm him.  “I thought I was hiding it, but I guess some things just can’t help but be obvious.”

   “Like that you’re smitten,” Seamus said, cracking a grin and folding his arms.  “Come on Harry lad,” he said cheerfully.  “All those questions about gay sex?  You’re about as subtle as a pig in a hat.”

   Harry felt like his face lit on fire with mortification.  “You didn’t?” Draco cried, appalled, but Seamus just laughed harder.

   “It was adorable,” he assured Draco in a friendly way.  “He thought he was all manner of discretion, talking like any straight fellow who just happened to be interested in-”

   “Okay!” said Ron loudly, for which Harry was grateful, as his humiliation had apparently rendered him mute.  “The point is, it may be a bit of a shock that this is who makes you happy, but if that’s how it is, then, well…”  He shoved his hand out in front of Draco, his cheeks probably not as flushed as Harry’s but not far off.  “That’s how it is.”

   Hermione rubbed his back, a clear look of pride on her face.  Harry had to say he was impressed.  If he had expected fireworks from any of his friends, he would have thought Ron would have been the most objectionable about his new choice in partner.  Draco blinked and looked down at the proffered hand, as if unsure what to do with it.  Eventually, just as the silence had lingered a fraction too long, he shot out his own hand to reciprocate the gesture and shook it firmly. 

   “Thank you,” he said humbly.

   “Excellent,” Dean announced to the group at large.  “Shall we head to the hall then, I’m starving?”

   “It’s a triple date,” Seamus crowed jovially, taking his boyfriend’s hand, just as Hermione took Ron’s. 

   Harry couldn’t think of anything to say as they were escorted down to the Great Hall; their first excursion as an official couple.  He kept up a steady rub back and forth of his thumb over Draco’s knuckles, feeling a little bit better about stepping into the gathered mass of students now that they had their entourage flanking them.

   “That was pretty cool,” Draco murmured in his ear, indicating the Gryffindors around them, chatting away happily.

   Harry smiled, feeling glowingly warm with love and happiness.  “They are pretty cool,” he said proudly.

   As predicted, there was a bit of a reaction when they entered, with people spotting three pairs of entwined hands instead of the expected two.  But Harry’s friends just carried on as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, and within a minute they were all sat at the Eighth Year table, pouring tea and fishing out toast from the racks. 

   For the first time all year, Draco Malfoy did not sit alone.  And he did not poke at his food like it was a form of punishment, instead he ate heartily, his body pressed pleasantly up to Harry’s as he smiled tentatively between bites.  At one point, Harry spontaneously offered up a scrap of chocolate croissant for him, and Draco automatically ate it from his fingers with a shy grin.

   “Urgh, get a room,” Seamus teased, but that just made both Harry and Draco beam even more. 

   They were together, officially, and Harry couldn’t help but hope that it was the start of a very long journey between them.  One they would walk side by side, arm in arm, with their hearts entrusted in each others’ hands.

   He couldn’t think of anything in the world he wanted more.

  

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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